


can't fight this feeling

by icepools



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coming Out, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, two dumb gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepools/pseuds/icepools
Summary: When Will smiles over at Mike, his heart does a weird flipping thing that he can’t describe. It’s nice, though, and he wants it to happen again.Mike doesn’t know it at the time, but this is the day he first fell in love.or: five times mike fell in love with will and one time will fell in love back.





	can't fight this feeling

**i.**

School, Mike decides during his first block before recess, _ sucks. _

It’s boring, and scary, and he misses his mom and Nancy. (Not so much his dad; his dad doesn’t really talk to him that much. He doesn’t know his dad that well.) It’s super lonely, too. 

When his mom dropped him off, he cried. He hugged her arm and cried. “I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with you and Nancy!” he shouted. His mother just patted his shoulder and sent him on his way. 

Now he sits alone at a table near the teacher’s desk (which Mike has quickly learned is _ not _ the cool place to be. He doesn’t even know how the other kids _ know that_) and reads a book from the shelf. 

It’s about a butterfly, and it’s also very boring. Mike doesn’t like it very much, but he’s too nervous to go change it. There’s a girl playing next to the bookshelf and he doesn’t want to ask her to move. 

He wonders when lunch is. At home, he always has lunch when the clock has a one and a three on it. The clock at home is easy to read; there’s no weird hands and lines and it just shows the numbers. He can’t read the clock here.

Lunch. He’s hungry. _ Very _hungry. But his lunch bag is in his backpack. Mike doesn’t think he’s supposed to be eating right now, either. 

He looks around the room at all the other kids. He notices that they all have a friend with them. Some even have _ two _ friends with them. Mike doesn’t think he’s ever even _ seen _a kid with that many friends. 

He doesn’t have any, though, and he frowns at the thought. 

He finishes his dumb butterfly book, but the girl is still in front of the bookshelf, so he flips to the front and reads it again. 

He’s on the fourth page when a loud ringing sound comes from the ceiling. He jumps, and nearly drops the book. 

“Everybody get your coats! It’s recess time!” His teacher, a nice woman with brown hair that she’s put into a lump on her head, says. Her voice is loud, but in a nice way. Mike likes her voice. It’s like his mom’s. 

He closes his book, and _ finally _the girl in front of the bookshelf leaves to get her jacket. He rushes towards the shelf, nearly knocking into a boy on his way over. 

“Michael! Walking feet, please,” His teacher (he thinks her name is Miss K? He can’t remember) says firmly.

“I’m sorry.” Mike frowns at her, putting his book away. She smiles at him and leads him to his cubby gently. She helps him put on his coat, then gestures for him to follow the other students outside. 

Outside, somehow, is even worse than inside. All the kids are much louder here, and it seems like there’s an extra three hundred of them. (Or maybe an even _ bigger _number that Mike doesn’t know about yet.)

The worst part is that everyone is in groups of _ five _ or even _ six _now. Some groups have joined together so that there’s ten of them. It’s all very overwhelming. Especially for Mike; he’s still alone. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets to hide them from the cold and starts walking around the playground. Maybe he can find a tree that he can climb, or a rock to sit on. 

He looks around, and notices he’s nearing the play structure. It has a slide and a bridge and _ everything_, but Mike doesn’t want to play on it alone. 

He frowns as he walks past it, but when his gaze moves to the swingset his frown disappears. 

A boy sits on one of the swings, very small. He looks smaller than Mike. And he’s _ alone_. Just like Mike. 

A wave of confidence rushes over him, and an unknown force pushes him towards the boy.

He’s nervous, to say the least. What if this boy _ does _ have friends, and he’s just alone for a second? Mike is sure that in two seconds he’ll see a group of boys run towards the boy and drag him away. Then Mike will be alone _ and _embarrassed. 

Thankfully for him (not so much for the boy on the swings) no boys come running. 

He finally gets to the swingset, and he’s right behind the boy. Does he stay here and get his attention? Or move to face him? Mike decides on the latter, moving around the outside of the structure and looking at the boy head-on.

His first thought is that this boy is very pretty. He brushes that thought aside, because deep down he knows boys aren’t supposed to be pretty. (This one is, though, and it makes Mike’s ears burn.)

His _ second _thought is that this boy looks very sad. Mike doesn’t know him, not at all, but he knows that he shouldn’t be sad. He’s too good for that; Mike can tell. 

“Hi,” Mike says, twiddling his fingers in his pocket. The boy looks up at him and Mike can’t figure out what he’s thinking. He’s difficult to read.

“Hi,” he says back. Mike likes his voice. It’s soft and sort of quiet, but in a nice way. He likes it more than Miss K’s voice. He likes it more than his _ mom’s _voice, he thinks. 

“You’re alone,”

The boy nods. 

“I’m Michael—Mike,” He doesn’t want this boy to call him Michael. It feels weird. Nancy calls him Mike, and he likes that more. So he wants this boy to call him Mike, too.

“…Will.”

_ Will. _ Mike plays with the name in his head. It’s nice. Soft, like the boy it belongs to. _ Will_.

Mike taps his fingers against his legs, unsure of what to say next. He wants to be Will’s friend. Will seems nice. He’s never asked someone to be his friend, though. What would Nancy say, if she were here? She would probably tease him. 

His mom would probably tell him to talk to Will, but Mike doesn’t have time for that. His dad would probably be sleeping. Mike supposes he’ll have to do this himself. 

“Do you—do you wanna be my friend?” 

Will blinks at him. Oh _ no_, did he mess this up?

“Okay.”

Will is smiling, now, and Mike notices that it does in fact reach his eyes. (And, _ wow,_ his smile is just as pretty as the rest of him.) Mike smiles too. 

“Do you wanna sit?” Will asks, nodding towards the empty swing next to him. Mike nods, taking a seat. 

The swing is cold. Very cold. It sends a shiver up Mike’s back. He turns to look at Will, who’s blinking at him. 

“Are you in a different class?” he asks. Mike thinks about it. _ Is he? _

“My teacher is Miss K,”

Will nods. “So you are. My brother said he had Miss K. He didn’t like her,” He realizes what he’s said, and shakes his head quickly. “It’s okay if you like her though.”

“I do. Kind of.”

They get to talking about where they live, and Mike quickly learns that Will lives in the area that his mom gets tense in when they drive through it. He doesn’t care, and Will doesn’t care that he lives in the part of town where all the houses have two levels and two cars in the driveway.

When their teachers call them in for lunch, they frown. They had only been talking for five minutes! Is it _ already _lunchtime?

“I can ask my teacher if I can eat in your room,” Will offers, hopping off the swing. Standing, he's even smaller. He looks like he’s a whole head shorter than Mike. 

“Would she say yes?”

“Maybe if I ask _ really _ nicely and tell her that you’re my friend. I can try and guilt-trip her by saying you’re my _ only _friend,”

Guilt-trip. Mike has never heard that word before. He’s heard the word guilt, Nancy says it when she tells on him for taking her books. He’s heard trip, too, his dad likes to use it before he leaves for a couple days. 

“Guilt-trip?”

Will looks at him as they walk back to the school. “It’s like, um, making someone feel bad so they do what you want them to,”

“Oh,” Mike nods, shoving his hands in his pockets again, “Okay.”

They get to the school, where their teachers are waiting for them. Their classmates are lined up against the wall, Will’s in a separate line from Mike’s.

They look at each other, and silently decide they’ll talk to their teachers inside. They wave to each other (despite the fact that they’ll see each other in five minutes) and join their respective lines. 

“Ask Miss K, too.” Will whispers to him as they pass by each other in the hallway. Mike nods frantically, following his classmates into his classroom. 

He walks up to Miss K after he’s put his coat away. “Um, Miss K?”

“Hi, Michael,” she smiles. Mike doesn’t. “Is everything alright?”

“Can my friend from another class eat lunch with me?”

Miss K frowns at him sympathetically. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, he has to eat in his own room,”

“But he said he’s asking his teacher too, and—“

“And she’s telling him the same thing,” When his teacher notices Mike’s frown, she sighs. “Okay, here. I’ll talk to his teacher, and we’ll see if we can work out a system for the two of you. Sound good?”

Mike’s frown is replaced almost immediately by a wide grin. Miss K smiles back. “Now go sit and eat your lunch, okay? Oh, right, what’s your friend’s name?”

“Will,” Mike says quickly. He’s already got it memorized. He doesn’t plan on ever forgetting it. 

“Will. He’s the boy you were with outside?” Mike nods. Miss K smiles again and send him on his way.

And he’s mildly disappointed, because he wants to hang out with Will more. Maybe his mom will let him come over after school. He’s never had a playdate before. He hopes he’s okay at it.

As he eats his lunch, he thinks about Will. What does he like? What’s his brother like? Is he nice like Nancy? If he and Will stay friends (Mike hopes they do. He really likes him) then maybe Mike will get to actually _ meet _his brother.

The rest of Mike’s day is boring. He colours a picture of a wizard, thinks about Will, plays with some blocks with a girl he doesn’t really like, thinks about Will, reads another book which is coincidentally also about a butterfly, and thinks about Will a little more.

When the bell rings again, and Miss K allows them to pack up their things, Mike practically sprints to his cubby, yanking on his coat and putting his backpack over his shoulders, then rushing out of the classroom to try and find Will before he leaves.

He stands on his tip-toes, searching for Will in the sea of kids. Some are his age, but others look like they’re even older than _ Nancy _. Those ones scare him, just a little.

Finally, he spots a brown bowl cut on a very small boy in the middle of the hallway and shoves past a group of girls to get to him.

“Hi,” he says once he’s next to Will. Will grins at him, wider than his smile on the swings. It’s even prettier. 

_ Not pretty. Boys aren’t pretty. _

“Hi,”

“Do you wanna come over? To my house, like? If my mom says yes,”

Will looks towards the ceiling, thinking over Mike’s question. “Okay,” he shrugs, “If _ my _mom says yes.”

Mike grins at him, and together they walk out of the huge doors at the front of the school. 

He sees his mom waiting for him, and resists the urge to run up to her and hug her. (Will probably won’t run up to _ his _mom and hug her, so Mike won’t. He doesn’t want to look stupid in front of Will.)

“I’m gonna find my mom,” Will whispers to him, walking away to do just that. 

“Hi, Michael!” Karen smiles at him, kneeling down to his level. Now that Will’s gone, he speedwalks towards her and wraps his arms around her torso.

“Who was that?” she asks after they’ve separated. At the mention of Will, even if not by name, Mike’s face lights up. 

“He’s my friend! His name is Will, can he come over?” he says in one breath. Karen lets out a laugh, surprised that Mike even _ found _a friend. 

“I’ll ask his mom or dad, okay? Where are they?” 

As if on cue, Will appears in Mike’s peripheral vision, dragging his mom towards them. 

“Come _ on_!” he says. Hearing his voice makes Mike smile. 

When he and his mom get to Mike and _ his _mom, Will quickly stands at Mike’s side. 

“Did you ask?” he hisses, leaning over to speak in Mike’s ear. 

“Yeah. Your mom just has to say yes.”

The boys watch their moms have a grown-up talk, looking at them occasionally. Will tries to smile at Karen everytime she looks at him, and Mike does the same with Joyce. 

The two women seem to come to an agreement, and Joyce leans down to talk to Will. 

“You’re gonna be okay?” Will nods. “You’ll come home for dinner, alright?” He nods again. “If anything happens, you ask Mrs. Wheeler to call me, okay?” He nods once more. 

Joyce hugs him tightly, then, with a sad look in her eyes, sends him on his way and heads to her car to drive home with his brother.

“You ready to go then, Will?” Karen smiles at him, and he nods frantically.

As they walk to their car, Mike can’t contain his excitement. 

“We can play in my basement, and—and if my mom lets us, we can play my Atari 2600. If you want,”

“You have an Atari?”

“You don’t?”

Will frowns and wraps his small fingers around his backpack straps. “No. My dad won’t let me.”

It’s Mike’s turn to frown. What kind of dad doesn’t get his kid an Atari? If _ his _dad didn’t get him one, he’d be really sad. Maybe that’s why Will was sad on the swings. 

“That’s not very nice of him,”

“He’s not very nice.”

Mike doesn’t reply. He looks at Will, and he looks unphased by his last sentence. Mike isn’t. 

He supposes he’ll ask his mom when Will leaves. (A time he isn’t looking forward too _ at all_, but they’ll see each other at recess tomorrow, too.)

They hop into the back of the Wheeler’s car, and immediately start talking about what they’re going to do. Karen chimes in a couple times, too, saying that maybe Nancy can take them to the park or something.

When Will smiles over at Mike, his heart does a weird flipping thing that he can’t describe. It’s nice, though, and he wants it to happen again. 

Mike doesn’t know it at the time, but this is the day he first fell in love. 

**ii.**

Fourth grade is even _ worse _than kindergarten.

First grade was fun, that was when Mike and Will started actually _ learning _stuff. 

Third grade was also fun. In third grade they were the oldest of the primary division. 

Second grade was the best, though. They did a lot of artsy things in second grade, and that’s when Will discovered he had a knack for drawing and painting. 

Second grade was also when _ Lucas _joined their friend group. 

Mike likes Lucas, he likes him a lot. He’s nice, and his favourite _ Star Wars _ character is Han, just like Mike. He likes the arcade, like Will and Mike, and he _ really _ likes riding his bike. _ Just like _Mike and Will. 

When they first became friends, it was always WillandMikeandLucas, or WillandMike. Will and Mike still had their Friday night sleepovers at Mike’s house, and their Saturday night ones at Will’s. 

That was back when things made sense. 

Now it’s fourth grade, and Dustin is a part of their friend group, too. It’s started to become more WillandMikeandLucasandDustin, and a little less WillandMike. 

For starters, more of their sleepovers involve all four of them. Mike doesn’t even _ remember _ the last time he and Will had two sleepovers in a week. Sometimes they go a whole _ two weeks _without having a one-on-one sleepover, whether at Mike’s house or Will’s.

And yeah, okay, it makes him sad. He misses hanging out with Will alone. He misses them doing their science homework together, then playing a game on Mike’s Atari. He misses sitting completely still while Will tries to capture his likeness on paper, and laughing at the bad ones and staring in awe at the good ones. 

He just misses _ Will. _

Sometimes, and he _ knows _it’s stupid, he’s jealous of Lucas and Dustin. Sometimes, he thinks that Will has replaced him at Friday night sleepovers, choosing Dustin’s house over his. 

He doesn’t have _ any _ reason to be jealous, and he knows it. But he _ is. _Just sometimes. When he’s alone at home on a Friday night, because Will didn’t ask about the sleepover that night, or said he was busy. (He never used to be busy, before Lucas and Dustin.)

It’s a boring Saturday afternoon when the phone at the Wheeler household rings. 

Mike allows his mom to answer, continuing to read his new _ X-Men _comic. He’s mildly annoyed when his mom yells, “It’s for you, Michael!” from across the room. 

He stands nonetheless, and brings the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mike.”

It’s Will, and the second he hears his name coming out of his mouth Mike is grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat; attempting to sound casual. They haven’t properly talked since Friday afternoon, “What’s up?”

“Um,” There’s some shuffling on Will’s end, and Mike wonders what he's doing. His question is answered when Will speaks again. “There’s a screening for _Raiders_—the movie with the guy who’s Han Solo, you know—_Raiders of the Lost_ _Ark_, it’s in like, an hour, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go see it?”

A movie with Will? _ Absolutely_. “Sure!” It dawns on Mike, now, that maybe Will means seeing it with him and _ Lucas and Dustin. _“Did you ask Lucas and Dustin yet, or—“

“Why would I ask Lucas and Dustin?”

Mike blinks. “Um, well, I don’t know, don’t you mean all four of us?”

There’s a pause, and some more shuffling on the other end. “No, I meant you and me. Unless you _ want _to see it with them?”

“No!” he says, a little too quickly. _ Shoot. _“Um, I mean, I’d like to see it with you. Just us.”

_ Just us _is a strange way of phrasing it, somehow. It feels like it doesn’t describe what they’re doing very well. It feels like it’s turning this trip to the movie theatre into something bigger. 

Mike doesn’t know what. 

“Okay. Cool. I’ll come by in like, five minutes. Get some money for food, okay?”

“Okay.”

“See you soon,”

“Yeah. Bye, Will.”

When he hangs up, there’s a grin on his face and an excited squeal caught in his throat. He swallows it down, then rushes to inform his mother of his outing. 

She doesn’t even argue; it’s _ Will_. She always says yes to hanging out with Will. She gives Mike a few dollars for snacks and another few for the tickets themselves. He waves her goodbye, exiting the house to prepare his bike. (Yes, Will is going to take almost half an hour to get to his house, but Mike doesn’t want to miss him.)

Will arrives twenty minutes later, and Mike grins when he sees him. 

“Hey,” Will says with a smile. 

Mike wants to hug him. 

“Hi,” Mike wheels his bike out of the garage and closes the door, “You ready to go?”

“If you are.” Will shrugs. Mike smiles again, and the two boys bike their way to The Hawk Cinema. 

The ride is short, only fifteen minutes, and almost silent. Their bike rides with Lucas and Dustin are loud, full of teasing and laughter and the occasional race to a stop sign or mailbox. Not Mike and Will’s rides, though; they like the quiet. 

After buying the tickets, they realize that they don’t have enough money to buy their own snacks. (Joyce couldn’t give Will more than ten dollars; he couldn’t get more than a bag of candy and small drink.)

“Well, let's just share a popcorn, yeah? Then you can get a bigger drink,” Mike offers, trying to get the frown off of Will’s face. He knows how Will gets about money stuff. With his dad gone, they’re even _ more _tight on money.

Will looks up at him. Mike’s plan didn’t work; he's still frowning. “It’s okay. I’ll, um, stick with the other stuff.”

Mike huffs a little. As if he’s going to let _ that _slide. Will is holding the five dollar bill in his hand, so Mike grabs it from him, ignores Will’s protests, and walks up to the counter. 

“Um, can I get combo three?” Two drinks and popcorn. “And one of these.” He grabs a bag of Reese’s Pieces from the shelf and puts it on the counter.

“Mike, what are you doing?” Will hisses to him, eyes darting between him and their snacks. 

“Buying us snacks for our movie.” he shrugs, as if it were obvious. And really, it kind of is. 

The grand total of their snacks is thirteen dollars and fifty-four cents. Mike paid for well over half of it, but he plans on giving Will the entire candy bag and probably most of the popcorn. (He’s never been a fan of Reese’s Pieces, but he knows Will likes them.)

“You shouldn’t have done that. I was fine with the other stuff,” Will whispers at the ticket stand, while Mike hands their tickets to the man working there. 

“I know,” he shrugs. The man hands him his ticket back and the two walk towards their theatre. “I wanted to.”

Will pouts, but he doesn’t protest further. 

They find a group of empty seats near the back, away from others, and settle in.

“Are you excited?” Will asks him quietly as a preview for _ Dragonslayer_, a movie Lucas really wants to see, plays. (Mike tries to get Lucas out of his head; he’s here with _ Will_.)

“Yeah,” he replies, and it’s the truth; Jonathan’s friend saw this movie last week, and he said it was _ awesome_. So naturally, it’s awesome.

“Me too.” Will says back, and they leave it at that. 

(Sometimes, it's all they need.)

The lights go down, and the movie starts. The theatre goes silent, save for the film itself and the rustling of popcorn bags. 

The movie is good. Great, even. They laugh quite a lot. Will jumps a couple times, and Mike wants to put his hand on his shoulder. (He doesn’t.)

Around the midway point, Mike looks down at Will’s hand. He’s resting it on the arm rest. For a fleeting second, he wants to move his own hand and take Will’s in his. 

He bets their fingers would fit together nicely. Will’s hand is small. Mike’s is small, too, but compared to Will’s, they’re huge. 

Will’s hands look soft. Mike is sure that they feels like Nancy’s hands; soft, smooth and delicate. 

He’s brought back to his senses when Will moves his hand to pick up his drink. Mike blinks a couple times, then brings his attention back to the film. 

_ That was weird. _

Mike remains focused for most of the remainder of the movie. (He zones out staring at Will’s hand again.) When they exit the theatre, Will is talking to him about something. He’s still focused on the last time he looked at Will’s hand, though, so he just tries to nod along.

“…Mike?”

“What?” Mike snaps his head towards Will, who’s looking at him expectantly. 

“I asked if you wanted to go to Benny’s. We can stop by my house to get some more money on the way,”

“Oh,” Mike nods, “Okay, sure.”

Will nods and smiles a little. It makes Mike smile. 

Joyce can’t give them much, but it’s enough for maybe some fries or a soda each. Before they leave, Jonathan gives them an extra five dollars. 

“That should do you.” he whispers, and Will grins at him. 

Benny’s is close to Will’s house. It’s only a seven minute bike ride. 

They used to go to Benny’s often, back when it was just the two of them. When Lucas joined their friend group, their visits were less frequent, but still there. With Dustin, now, they spent less time at Benny’s and more time in Mike’s basement. 

And they _ love _Mike’s basement, but sometimes Mike misses sitting in a booth with his friends, stealing fries and bites of the others burger. 

Their funds get them two milkshakes and a small amount of fries. Not much, but they’re still a little stuffed from the popcorn and candy, so they’re not complaining. 

“That movie was good,” Will says distantly, stirring the whipped cream into his shake. 

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, “It was cool. I like that guy. What’s his name again?”

“The character? Or the guy who plays him?”

“The second one,”

Will taps his finger against his chin, trying his hardest to remember his name. “Isn’t it, like, Harold or Harrison or something?”

“Harrison Ford,” Mike finally remembers. Will thinks about it for a bit, then mumbles a soft _ oh_.

“Yeah, he’s cool.”

Mike nods, and they’re quiet again. 

They’re the youngest people in the diner, it seems. They see a couple of high schoolers, but none that Nancy or Jonathan know. They saw a pair of eighth graders leaving as they came in, but that was it. 

Mike kind of likes being the youngest. Benny is a nice guy, and because they’re so little he makes sure they’re taken care of. He likes Benny.

“So, um, Lucas and Dustin and I…” 

Mike stops listening. _ Lucas and Dustin_. He can _ feel _the jealousy tug at his heart. 

It’s _ so _stupid. 

But maybe Will should know?

“Will?” he says suddenly, interrupting him mid-sentence. 

Will looks at him, takes a sip from his milkshake, then says, “Yeah?”

How should he phrase this? _ Hey, Will! Just so you know, I’m jealous of my friends for spending time with you. I know you still hang out with me, but I have a sneaking suspicion with no actual evidence that you’re spending more time with them than me_.

“Um, okay, so, this is dumb, and I’m being stupid, but,” he pauses. It’s too late to back out now, he knows that. He kind of wishes he could, though.

“_Yeah_?” Will says again. Mike sees him tapping his fingernails against his glass.

“I—I miss spending time with you,”

Will laughs, “What do you mean? We always spend time together,”

He’s right, technically, but that’s not what Mike means. How do you tell someone you’re jealous without _ saying _you’re jealous?

“I mean—I mean just us. Lately it’s been us, and Lucas and Dustin. I wanna hang out with _ you_.”

Will blinks at him. 

“_Jesus_, Will, _ fine_, I’m jealous of Lucas and Dustin because we used to be _ just us _ and now we’re _ not _ just us and I miss it and it’s because of _ them _, and I know—I know it’s dumb, but—“

“_Mike_,” Will says, voice tinged with laughter. Mike doesn’t think it’s very funny. “You’re telling me,” he pauses to take a sip of his shake again. (Could he _ be _ any slower?) “That you’re _ jealous _of Lucas and Dustin?”

Mike frowns. Shoot, yeah, he is, and coming out of Will’s mouth he realizes even further how completely and utterly _ stupid _it is. 

He swallows, “Yeah,”

Will laughs again. “You don’t need to be jealous, stupid! You’re my favourite.”

Mike’s heart stops for a second. 

Will is saying something else, about sleepovers, and maybe he should be listening, but he’s too busy replaying the words _ You’re my favourite _ in his head over and over and over again to even _ think _about sleepovers. 

Mike doesn’t realize it at the time, but he _ definitely _just fell in love again.

**iii.**

“Do you remember the first day that we met?”

Mike speaks with a racing heart and a break in his voice. 

He’s been gone for a while. It started out with him having little episodes; they all thought it was nothing. Because it _ had _ to be nothing. The world _ had _to be done messing with Will Byers.

They were proven wrong a couple days ago when they ran through the halls of Hawkins Lab, trying desperately to ignore Will’s screams of pain and cries of terror. 

Sometimes, in the lab, when Will was asleep, Mike cried. Will wasn’t supposed to have _ anything _ bad happen to him. Not ever. The Upside Down was an unfortunate exception; that was meant to be _ it_. 

But now Will is possessed, gone, possibly forever. All that’s left of him is his body and maybe, _ maybe _a sliver of his being. 

It makes Mike’s blood boil and his eyes well with tears. 

“It was—it was the first day of kindergarten,”

It should be _ him_. Will shouldn’t be sat tied to a chair, rope burning his ankles and arms, huge lamp blinding him.

He shouldn’t be in Mike’s position either, though. He doesn’t deserve this. The overwhelming fear that you’ll never see your favourite person in the world, and the heartbreak that comes with standing in front of him, but not seeing_ him. _

Mike wouldn’t want to be in this position, if he could choose. 

He would probably choose for him to be in Will’s place, and have Will be living it up in New York, or Canada, or Chicago, somewhere, _ anywhere _ far away from all of _ this_.

“I knew nobody. I had no friends, and—I just felt—felt so alone, and so scared,”

He feels that way now. Alone. Scared. 

He feels that way for two seconds before he decides that he doesn’t deserve to feel alone. 

Will would probably laugh at him if he said that out loud. _ I don’t deserve to feel alone _. Then Mike would laugh too and suddenly he wouldn’t feel alone anymore. 

“I…I saw you on the swings, and you were alone too,” 

_ Alone too_. A bit like now. 

Will looks alone. When Mike looks at him, he looks _ so alone_. Like he doesn’t know everyone he loves is right in this room with him. 

And maybe he doesn’t, not really, but Mike hopes he does. He hopes he’s heard every word about his rainbow ship, he hopes he remembered building Castle Byers with Jonathan, and he sure as hell hopes he’s hearing Mike relay the best day of his life. 

“You were just…swinging by yourself,”

Will looked sad then, Mike remembers. He had a frown on his face and he kept his gaze on his shoes. 

In comparison to this, today, in the shed, he looked like he won the lottery on the first day they met. 

“I just—I walked up to you, and I asked,”

Mike can feel his throat getting tight. It’s getting harder to breathe. He swallows his panic. He can’t freak out, not now. Not when they’re _ so close _to getting to him. 

(Technically speaking, they have no way of knowing when or even _ if _they’ll reach Will, wherever he is. But Mike knows. He just knows.)

(He _ has _to know.)

“I asked if you wanted to be my friend,”

Mike wants his friend back. 

“You said yes,”

His _ best friend_.

“_You said yes_,”

Mike’s voice is breaking. He hasn’t been able to look at Will since he talked about asking to be his friend. He _ can’t_. He can’t look at him. He doesn’t want to see his face. The fear. The hurt. The confusion. The _ loneliness. _

“It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

He chokes, and has to turn around. He doesn’t want Will to see him like this, even if he’s not there. 

And_, god_, he might not be there. 

Jonathan comes over and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. You did good,”

Mike doesn’t think he did very good, seeing as Will didn’t snap out of his possession as soon as Mike finished his story. 

He sniffles, and wipes his tears with the back of his hand. 

“Come on.” Jonathan whispers, leaving him to join Joyce.

Mike takes a couple deep breaths. _ Come on. Come _ on. _ He needs you. _

But Will doesn’t _ need _ him. Right now he does (and not even now), but Will Byers has never _ needed _Mike. Mike is an added bonus (or just an addition) to being the coolest, strongest, bravest boy in the world. 

Will doesn’t need Mike, not to survive, but Mike does. 

He wipes more of his tears (even if Will can’t really see him. Just in case) and wills himself to turn around. 

Will is still looking at him, eyes full of fear and lip trembling. 

Mike chokes out a sob into his hand. 

Clearly his retelling of the first day that they met didn’t do _ anything _except make things worse. 

Will is still looking at him, scared out of his mind. (Mike is, too.)

This is his final chance to _ really _say something. There’s one thing on his mind, but he can’t say it out loud. 

Mike bites his lip hard, wipes away the tiny amount of blood it produced, and sighs silently. 

_ Please come back, Will_, he mouths. He looks to his left and finds that neither Joyce, Jonathan, nor Hopper are looking at him. 

_ I love you_.

Maybe it’s his imagination, but he sees Will’s shoulders slack a little. 

Will’s attention is shifted from him to his family, giving Mike a second to go over what the _ hell _just happened in his head. 

He just _ technically _said I love you to Will. 

The worst part is that he thinks he actually meant it. 

His heart stops for a second at the thought, and even though he’s not sure if this time it’s a good thing, he knows one thing. 

He just fell in love with Will Byers, and this time, he _ actually notices_.

**iv.**

“You’re coming back?”

Will makes a sound comparable to a hum on the other line. “Yeah,”

“For how long?”

“Um, a couple days? Like, Thursday to Sunday,”

After the summer of 1985, the Byers (and El) moved to Chicago. Since then, Mike saw the whole family maybe three or four times a year. Less if either party was busy.

This year, well into October, he hadn’t seen them at _all_. Being a junior in high school is _hard_.

Mike doesn’t really know what he and Will are anymore. That summer he said some things he _ definitely _shouldn’t have (he cringes just thinking about them) and he never really apologized. Not properly, anyway. 

“Are you—are you staying with anyone?” That’s a dumb question. He’s probably staying with Dustin or Lucas or, hell, maybe he’s staying at the _ inn_.

“That’s why I’m calling you, actually. I was wondering if I could stay with you? If it’s okay, obviously. Lucas is my backup, so it’s not like I’m _ totally _fucked if you say no, but—“

Holy _ shit_, did Will just say fucked?

“Sorry. I’m rambling. Can I stay with you?”

Mike is silent, trying to compute the last two minutes of conversation in his brain. 

Will is coming back to Hawkins for a few days. Will wants to stay with Mike. Will _ swore_, which Mike still can't wrap his head around, and Lucas is his backup place to stay.

“Um, I can ask my mom, but—“

“Really? Oh, thank _ god_, I didn’t wanna stay with Lucas. His sister is _ terrifying_.”

Mike laughs. Erica, now 12 years old, is meaner than ever. She made El cry once.

“So it’s just you, yeah? No El?”

Will exhales slowly. “No, just me. She has stuff to do here. I can try and invite her, if you want—“

“No!” Too fast. “I mean, um, no, it’ll be easier to have just you,”

_ Easier? Jesus christ, Mike_.

Will is silent for a minute, and for a short period Mike thinks he royally fucked up. 

“Okay. Cool.”

_ Oh_. Never mind to royally fucking up, then. 

“I’ll see you Thursday?” Mike asks, leaning against the wall next to the phone. 

“Yeah,” Will replies.

“Bye,”

“Bye, Mike.”

He hangs up the phone, and sighs heavily. 

_ What the hell happened to them? _

Mike happened, he knows it. He told Will it wasn’t his fault he didn’t like girls and that was it. 

He wishes he could take it back. He wants to take it back more than _ anything. _Mike is pretty sure he’s never felt more hurt than when he saw Will’s face drop and chest start to rise and fall rapidly.

He’s positive Will hates him. Even if he _ just _ asked if he could stay with him for three nights, Mike is still sure Will hates him. And why wouldn’t he? Fourteen year old Mike was an _ asshole_. Sixteen year old Mike hopes he’s maybe a little better. 

Will called him on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday were probably the most _ boring _ days of his life; waiting for Will to show up. On Wednesday, he counted the _ seconds _from around five o’clock to seven. 

It’s _ finally _Thursday, and Mike tries to act casual at breakfast when his mom reminds him of Will visiting.

“You didn’t forget, right? No, why would you? Anyways, his mother called, said he should be by around dinnertime. He still likes spaghetti, right? Did you ask him if he still likes spaghetti?”

“_Mom,_” he interrupts her rambling. She settles her shoulders with a sigh. “You’re more nervous about him coming over than I am. Don’t be. He’s still _ Will_,” He says this despite himself; he doesn’t really believe it’s true.

“I know. I just haven’t seen him in a couple years. Did he seem any different over the phone?”

_ It’s not like I’m _ totally _ fucked if you say no. _

“No. Same old Will Byers.”

Mike makes the executive decision to withhold the news of Will’s visit from the party until Friday. Maybe Saturday.

“You _ seriously _can’t drive us?” Dustin whines at lunch on Thursday.

They’re asking him to drive them to the movie theatre, seeing as he’s the only one with a license. And, no, he _ can’t _drive them, he’s busy spending secret time with his best friend; one that they all miss just as much as him.

“_No_, Dustin, I can’t. I have to help my mom with dinner, and Mitchell gave me a shit-ton of homework. Maybe tomorrow.”

Maybe tomorrow he’ll tell them Will is here, and they can go see a movie, all five of them. Like they used to.

The party (they don’t really call themselves that anymore; after Will left, all desire to play D&D was lost) still sees movies, obviously. Mike likes them, he really does, but he misses leaning to his left and whispering something—sometimes related to the movie, sometimes not—to Will. He misses the little snort that Will always did into his hand, trying not to disturb the other moviegoers but still showing Mike that he _ knew_.

Will always knew.

When Mike comes home from school, his mom instantly throws him into work. Tidying his room, the basement, the living room. Preparing a place for Will to sleep. (“A _ real _ mattress,” she said, “Will deserves a _ real _mattress.”) Prepping for dinner. By the time Mike is gifted a chance to sit, just for a minute, he’s exhausted. But Will is going to be arriving soon, and once Mike Wheeler is napping, nothing can wake him. 

(Maybe Will can, but Mike has never experienced it. Probably because when Will is around, and awake, Mike is around and awake.)

He’s leaning his head on his hand, eyes closed, when there’s a knock at the door. Loud enough to be heard, but gentle enough to avoid intrusion.

Unmistakably Will. 

“Michael, sweetie, can you get the door? I’m sure it’s Will, just, please—“

“Yeah, mom, I got it.”

Mike reluctantly raises his head from his hand and rises from his seat, making his way towards the front door. 

Will is standing on the other side of this door. Mike takes a deep breath, puts his hand on the knob, and turns it, pulling the door open towards him. 

_ Oh my god _ is his first thought, and _ Holy shit _is his second. 

Will Byers grew into his looks, _ that’s _for sure. 

“Hi,” Will says, seemingly caught off guard. He only has a backpack with him; how he’s going to make it last an entire weekend, plus a day, is beyond Mike. 

“…hi,” Mike says back, slowly, taking in every inch of Will. 

His bowl cut is gone. He seemed to be halfway through the process of getting rid of it when Mike last saw him. He’s taller, too, taller than when they were last together. His face is generally the same, though it’s a little sharper. 

And, _ jesus fucking christ_, he looks really good. 

“Are—are you okay?” Will asks, furrowing his brows at him. 

Mike swallows. “Yeah. Sorry. Do you, uh, do you wanna come in? Obviously you wanna come in, you asked to stay here. I mean—come in.”

Will blinks at him, then nods and follows him inside. 

“Are you _ sure _ you’re okay?” he asks again. Leave it to Will to worry even after Mike’s already said he’s okay. (And he _ is _. He’s just caught off guard by whatever the fuck happened to Will.)

“Yes, Will, I’m fine.” he sighs. Will looks at him, then at his shoes. 

He doesn’t question it further. 

Karen is happy to see him, and even Holly is jumping for joy when she sees him in the kitchen. (His dad’s still asleep.)

Dinner is awkward. Especially for Mike. His parents (mostly his mom) ask Will about _ everything_. What school he goes to, university, his friends in Chicago, how different Hawkins is from the big city. _ Everything. _Mike just has to sit and listen.

“Are you still doing the whole, you know, art thing?” Karen asks him. Will smiles. 

“Yeah. Chicago is good for that sort of stuff.”

Mike looks over at Will a _ lot _ during dinner. Sneaking in little glances to _ try _and get used to what he looks like. 

Truth be told, it’s not that much different. He’s just a little taller with sharper features and a little less hair. (Somehow, somewhere, he got prettier. Mike doesn’t bother to tell himself that boys aren’t pretty, because Will is living proof of it.)

Somehow, the conversation moves to Jonathan. Will says that he’s been teaching him to play guitar. Mike’s dad seems to like this, because he perks up and starts bombarding Will with a hundred questions.

Mike isn’t really listening, zoned out staring at his food. He _ is _ listening when he feels a sharp kick to his shin and his fingers tighten around his fork. He looks to his left; Will _ definitely _kicked him, Mike can tell by the way he averts his gaze the second he looks over.

Mike looks down, and sees that Will’s leg is jerking up and down rapidly. _ Shit_, he’s nervous. So _ that’s _what the kick was for.

“Hey, so, dad, I was talking to Nancy the other day, and she said that she was gonna come home sometimes this month.” This would usually be something he would tell his mom, but he’s desperate. (He’ll have to ask Nancy to come home, too, but that’s another issue.)

His parents start talking about Nancy, and _ oh, isn’t she just lovely. Living on her own in the big city! So grown up. _Mike’s just glad his idea worked.

Will is too, apparently, because he feels his foot against his ankle. Not to annoy, but to acknowledge. Mike knows this, he knows Will didn’t even give it a second thought, but it still sends a shiver down his spine.

After dinner, Mike informs his family that he and Will have homework. (He’s not really going to do his homework, and he’s sure Will isn’t either, but it’s a good enough excuse to get them into the basement and out of doing the dishes.)

“You don’t actually have homework, do you?” Will asks once they’re downstairs.

“No,” Mike lies, “Do you?”

“No,”

“Okay.”

Will looks down at his feet. Mike crosses his arms over his chest. How had this gotten so difficult?

“Um, do you, uh, wanna watch a movie or something?” Will offers nervously. Mike considers this, looks towards the basement door, then grins.

“I have a better idea.”

Will watches him as he grabs his backpack and digs around in it for a minute. “There you are,” Mike mumbles, pulling out his set of car keys.

“Holy shit, you can _ drive_?” Will’s face is bright again, a little smile growing on his face.

_ This_, Mike thinks, _ This is what we’re supposed to be. _

“Yeah. Got my license over the summer.”

“And we won’t get into a car crash?” Will’s expression is teasing, and his tone is light. Mike wonders that maybe if he hadn’t said anything about liking girls then they wouldn’t have had to work back up to this point. 

“No. Come on, grab a jacket, it’s cold,” Mike says, pulling on his own jacket. 

“I’m okay,”

“No, you’re not, come _ on_, jacket,”

“I like the cold,”

“What are you, the mind flayer?”

Will snorts. Mike grins, biting his lip. He grabs his old jacket that probably won’t fit Will, but he throws it onto him anyway.

“Let’s go. Quiet, I don’t really wanna deal with my mom scolding us.”

Will doesn’t say anything. He slowly pulls on the jacket (it _ is _a little small, but it’s good enough) and heads towards the door. Once Mike is situated, they silently exit the basement and enter the car. 

“It’s a piece of shit, by the way. Has been for the last couple years. So I actually wouldn’t be surprised if we _ did _get into a car crash,”

“_Great_,” Will laughs, and Mike does too. 

The drive is quiet. Mike asked Will if he wanted music, but he refused. “I like the quiet,” he said. Mike thought it was a little weird. 

He doesn’t now, though, because he looks over at Will and he’s frowning. That’s not right. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. Will looks at him and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. That’s the only answer Mike needs. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Will sighs. Mike is worried that he said something wrong, but then he nods. “Can you stop the car?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Mike’s brows are furrowed in confusion, but he pulls the car to the side of the road nonetheless. 

Will doesn’t say anything when they stop. Mike taps his hands against the steering wheel, waiting for him to speak. When he doesn’t, Mike sighs and starts the conversation. 

“Will?”

He seems to be snapped out of a trance or something, because he jumps. “Yeah, shit, um, yeah, sorry, just a second,”

“Okay.”

Mike stares at Will as he thinks, or whatever he’s doing. What _ is _he doing?

“I, um—“ Will starts, then immediately stops. 

Mike nods in encouragement. He offers a small smile, and Will looks away. 

“I’m gay. I like boys. Sorry.”

First of all, _ what_. Second of all, _ what! _ Third, _ what? _

“You are?”

Will keeps his gaze on the road ahead of them. He nods slowly. 

“Did you just apologize for liking guys?”

“No,” he says immediately. They both know he’s lying. Mike isn’t sure _ why _he is. 

“Hey, Will, look at me, okay? It’s okay,” he tries to speak gently, knowing how fragile and exposed Will probably feels right now. 

Will doesn’t move, so Mike frowns and reaches his over, grabbing his chin gently and moving his head so they’re face to face. He tries to ignore the obvious tears in Will’s eyes. 

“It’s _ okay_. _ You’re _ okay. _ We’re _okay,” he smiles gently, “Okay?”

Will blinks a couple times, then grins. “Okay.”

Mike’s shoulders relax. He lets go of Will’s face and starts up the car again. This time, he puts in one of Will’s old tapes that he forgot at his house years ago. Mike’s always liked it.

Will smiles at him when the music starts playing, and Mike’s heart stops. 

For a fleeting second, Mike wants to blurt out the fact that he thinks he’s gay too. He wants to tell Will that he thinks he likes boys, too.

He realizes, for the second time in his life, that he likes one boy in particular. 

Will (also known as _ one boy in particular_) looks over at Mike, smiles, and mouths _ thank you. _

Mike wants to tell him he loves him. 

He doesn’t, but he’s pretty sure he just _ fell _in love with him again.

**v.**

College, to put it lightly, sucks _ ass_.

It’s boring, and stressful, and not as fun as the movies make it out to be. Mike spent his entire first year in his dorm working on essays and homework and textbook assignments. 

Will is no different. Their first couple months in their dorm were pure workload. They didn’t even really get to talk to each other. 

The second year has been good, though. _ Much _less work. Mike likes his classes this year way more, too.

What he _ doesn’t _like is having homework on a Friday night, when all of his friends are going to a party. 

“Mike, you’re _ sure _you’re okay on your own? I can stay back. We can watch, like, I don’t know—“

“_Will_,” Mike laughs. He sits up on his bed and pauses for a second. “I’m fine. The real question is are _ you _gonna be fine? Parties aren’t really your—“

“Thing?” It’s Will’s turn to laugh. He buttons up the second to last button on his shirt, looks in the mirror they’ve hung on their wall, and turns face Mike. “I know. This okay?”

Mike looks his outfit up and down. _ More than okay_.

“Yeah,” he purses his lips, then smiles a little. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this stuff?”

“Har, har.” Will rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning too.

He starts mumbling things to himself, probably checking that he has everything. Mike watches him shuffle around the dorm, then struggle to tie his shoes standing up. 

“You’re _ absolutely one hundred percent sure _you don’t wanna come?” he asks once more, shoving some cash into his pocket. Mike smiles. 

“_Yes_, Will. Go have fun. Don’t drive when you come home. Call me if you have to, yeah? I’ll pick you up. Don’t let El or Max drive, either,”

“Okay, _ mom_. See you later tonight. I don’t know when we’ll get back. Don’t go to bed too late.”

Neither says anything more. They don’t need to. Will opens the door and leaves, and Mike flops back onto his bed and sighs heavily. 

Maybe he should’ve gone. Is it too late to follow Will out? Well, no, but he actually _ does _ have a shit-ton of homework. 

“Stupid fucking english degree.” he mutters, sitting up and opening his textbook to the assigned section. 

He lasts about two minutes before he lays back down. He should go. Will probably wants him there.

Then again, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Will is using this party to try and get a date. Mike feels a knot form in his stomach. 

He’s not allowed to feel like this; whatever it is. Jealousy, maybe. Will isn’t _ his. _ He’s not his boyfriend or some shit. Will is his friend. His single friend that has every right to go to a party and find himself a boy to date. Maybe even just hookup with. Mike hopes he won’t have to deal with _ that_.

Not that's it’s a bad thing. It’s _ not_. 

He huffs and sits up again. _ Fuck _being sad. He’s going to finish this assignment tonight if it kills him.

A couple hours later, as he’s finishing his fourteenth question, the phone rings. Mike scrambles to pick it up, because what if it’s Will? What if he needs him? Jesus, what if something _ happened_?

“Hello?” he says quickly. 

“Where the _ fuck _are you?”

Mike exhales. _ Not _Will. “Jesus, Max, you scared me. I thought something happened,”

“No, idiot, something _ did _happen. You, dipshit!”

“Sorry?”

“You, Mike Wheeler, are an _ idiot _ . Will was so excited to go to this party with you and you’re _ not here _?”

Mike takes a deep breath and blinks a couple times. “Max, what the _ fuck _are you talking about?”

“Michael Wheeler, your best friend William Byers was very much excited to go to a party with you. When I, Max Mayfield, told him about it, his first words were _ can I bring Mike_? Do with that what you will,”

MIke sighs loudly. What the fuck is Max _ saying_? “Are you drunk?”

“Well, yeah, but this isn’t a drunk thing. Will is genuinely really upset you’re not here. He wants to dance and get drunk with his best friend, you know?”

No, he doesn’t. Not at all. “Is he with you?”

“No, I don’t know where he is. El’s here, though. Here, El, come talk to Mike!”

Before Mike can protest, or comment on the fact that Max and El left WIll alone at a huge college party, he hears shuffling, talking, and some yelling, and then El’s voice.

“Hey, Mike! Where are you, I thought you were coming with Will?” She sounds less drunk than Max, but definitely still tipsy. He sighs.

“_No_. Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Probably. Listen, Mike—”

The line goes dead. Probably Max, stupid drunken Max, grabbing the phone from El and hanging it up. Mike makes a mental note to pinch her. Maybe he’ll punch her, too, just for shits and giggles.

After the brief overwhelming hatred he feels for Max dies down, he takes a second to process what the two girls actually _ said_.

_ He wants to dance and get drunk with his best friend, you know? _

What the hell does that even mean?

Probably exactly what Max said, actually. Nothing more. Will just wants to hang out with his friend, which, admittedly, makes sense. 

Maybe Mike should suck it up and just go. But truth be told he doesn’t really know _ where _the party is, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by showing up at the wrong house.

He doesn’t really want to embarrass himself by showing up at the _ right _one either.

“Stupid,” he murmurs. “Just stupid.”

Mike huffs out a sigh, abandoning the phone on the wall to sit back on his bed and continue his homework.

An hour later, his homework is abandoned on his bed. He’s pulling his shoes on and leaving the laces undone, deciding to tie them in his car. He rushes out the door without a second glance at the mess of papers scattered across his bed and the floor. _ Homework be damned. _

“This is stupid,” Mike hisses to himself as he finishes tying his left shoe and sticks the keys into the ignition.

“So fucking stupid.” he says, driving away from their building and, hopefully, to the party his friends are at. 

Shockingly enough, a house throwing a party on a street full of normal houses _ isn’t _that hard to miss. Students, freshmen and seniors alike, are out dancing and drinking in the lawn, plastic cups abandoned on the grass. 

It’s mildly terrifying. 

Mike takes in a deep breath, turns off the car, and wills himself to open the door. 

This party, Mike decides, is gross. The entire house reeks of sweat, beer and vomit. It makes Mike want to throw up himself. 

Being six foot two with extremely gangly legs that he still doesn’t know how to control is difficult in a crowded and stuffy environment like this. He’s pressing himself against walls, and sucking his stomach in so he can squeeze past people. 

He just needs to find Will. Or Max or El, if he’s desperate, but he’s here for Will.

While standing on his toes (not that he needs it) to search for his friends, someone walks into him. He’s about to apologize when he looks down and makes eye contact with El.

“Oh, hi, Mike. What are you doing here?” she asks, taking a sip from her cup. Mike can tell it’s not beer, but he doesn’t really want to know what it _ is. _ (It doesn’t smell great, he can tell _ that _from a foot away.)

“I’m looking for Will, um, where is he? Do you know?”

El ponders the question, pursing then puckering her lips. “Um, no. I saw him with some guy earlier, though, they might still be together. Check the kitchen. They could be dancing or something, too,”

The thought of WIll dancing with a boy makes Mike’s throat tighten. He nods, thanks her, then shuffles through the crowd to find the kitchen.

The only thing he finds there is a couple making out next to a bowl of chips, and he thanks god that he didn’t find Will and this _ boy _in a similar situation.

_ Dancing_, Mike thinks as he makes his way to what seems to be the dance floor, _ Please don’t be dancing. _

Will and boy are in fact dancing, Mike soon finds. 

WIll looks happy. He’s grinning, and every once in a while he laughs at something the boy says.

The _ boy_. He’s not even that cute. Dark hair and a boring looking face. His clothes are boring, too; he’s just a boring looking person.

But maybe Will doesn’t _ like _him, maybe Will just wanted to dance with someone and his stupid best friend chose homework instead of hanging out with him at some dumb party.

His theory is proven wrong when he sees the boy lean forward, grab Will’s face, and kiss him.

Mike doesn’t want to see it through, to see if maybe maybe _ maybe _Will isn’t enjoying the kiss. With a knot forming in his stomach, he turns around and squeezes past people to leave. He decides to ignore the voice behind him yelling his name.

“_Mike_!” He’s outside now, and finally stops and turns around.

It’s Will yelling at him, but he knew that. He’s seemingly abandoned his cup somewhere in the house, and his face is red. Red with _ what _, Mike doesn’t know.

“What are you—“

“Do you like him?” Mike asks loudly.

Will blinks at him open-mouthed. “What?”

“That guy. The one you were dancing with, the one you—” Mike can’t finish that sentence. “Do you like him?”

Will takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes, then exhales. “Why?”

It’s Mike’s turn to blink at him in confusion. 

Will’s brows furrow. Not in confusion, but in annoyance. Anger, even.

“Why does it matter?” he asks again. Mike stays silent. “It _ shouldn’t _matter, Mike. Not to you,”

“I—“

“No, Mike, listen to me. Let me talk. You,” Will laughs; it’s not a nice one. “You decided that you would rather do homework than go to a party with your friends, to a party with _ me_,” Mike doesn’t like the way he says _ me _. He doesn’t like the way WIll points to himself with a shaking hand, either.

“And then you—you decide to come, and the first thing you decide to do is yell at me asking if I like some random boy who kissed me?”

Yes, that’s _ exactly _what Mike did. Hearing Will explain it, now, it’s fucking pathetic.

“Listen, Will—”

“_No_, Mike, I don’t want to hear it. Not right now.”

Mike frowns. Maybe that’s for the best, because he doesn’t actually know how to explain why he’s being like this without _ literally _telling Will he’s in love with him.

(Okay, _ maybe _he can, but he doesn’t know how.)

“For the record, Mike,” Will speaks again, bringing Mike back to reality, “I _ didn’t _ like him. He kissed me. _ Two seconds _after you left I told him that.”

_ Shit. _

Mike is silent. Will folds his arms over his chest, taps his foot against the sidewalk, then sighs. 

“Did you drive?”

“Will—“

“_Did you drive_, Mike?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Take me home,”

“Will, come on—“

“Take me _ home_, Mike.”

Mike relents, closing his mouth and walking in the direction of his car. Will follows him, stumbling a couple times. (Mike realizes now that the red in his face came from embarrassment, anger, and alcohol.)

They’re silent when they get in the car and silent when they drive home. Mike tries to catch Will’s eyes a couple times, tries to get his attention to do _ something_. 

Will keeps his eyes on the window. 

Mike decides that Will doesn’t want to talk right now. 

When they get back to their building, Will doesn’t say a word. He exits the car and goes to their dorm without waiting for Mike to turn off the car, or even get out. 

Mike joins Will in their dorm, and finds him staring at his abandoned english homework. He sees Will’s fingers twitch, as if he wants to do something, or say something, but he sighs and goes to take off his shoes. 

“Hey, Will?” he offers as Will changes into his pyjama shirt; one of Jonathan’s old t-shirts. (Much like most of his other shirts.)

Will doesn’t reply, but Mike continues anyway. 

“I’m sorry,”

Will pauses for a second, then sighs. 

“I know.”

Mike smiles a little. Okay. Maybe they’ll be okay.

“I love you,”

_ What the _fuck.

Mike watches Will’s shoulders tense. He turns around, and Mike sees him swallow hard. 

“Yeah. I love you too.”

That’s not what he meant. Even if Mike hadn’t meant to tell Will he loves him, he didn’t mean like _ that_.

Maybe he should just leave it. Shrug it off and let Will go to bed. Finish his homework. Probably pick up Max and El and _ definitely _hold Max’s hair back when she inevitably throws up somewhere. 

“That’s not what I mean,”

Will, who was in the process of taking off his socks, looks up at him. “Sorry?”

“I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean it like that,”

“I’m not following,”

_ Jesus_, Mike thinks, swallowing hard and avoiding Will’s gaze, _ This is it. _

“I _ love _you. Like, love love,” Will doesn’t say anything in the split second pause between Mike’s words. Mike inhaled quickly and finishes. “Will, I’m in love with you.”

Will stares at him. Mike opens his mouth to say something else, maybe take it back, or say he was kidding, but Will beats him to it. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

“_What_? No, Will, I really—“

“Because I swear to _ god_, if you’re fucking with me, Mike—“ 

Mike doesn’t get a chance to tell Will, _ again _, that he’s being one hundred percent serious, because Will steps forward, grabs his face somewhat harshly and pulls him to his level, leaning forward to kiss him. 

Mike takes a second to recover from the surprise, but once he’s regained his senses, he’s quick to push back. 

He moves his hands to Will’s waist, and he tells himself he should stop soon because Will is drunk and probably not thinking entirely straight, but Will is kissing him and his hands are in his hair and for a split second Mike decides that he doesn’t care. 

He feels a small tug at the nape of his neck, and quickly pulls away, all sense having been brought back to him. 

“Hey, now, mister, not while you’re drunk,” Mike says quickly, though he doesn’t even know what he’s saying no to. 

“I’m not drunk,” Will replies with a huff.

“Are,”

Will grins. “Am.”

Mike smiles back and tentatively puts his hands on Will’s shoulders. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay? When I’m a little less sleep deprived and you’re a little less alcohol driven,”

Will sighs, but he puts one of his hands on top of Mike’s. He almost flinches, before remembering that they’re safe in their dorm. “Okay,”

Mike smiles again, gently, and allows Will to grab his small bag of toiletries and make his way to the door. 

“I’m gonna, um, you know—“ he yelps, bumping his ankle on his guitar. “—_shit_, um. Yeah.”

He slips on his slippers and exits without another word, leaving Mike grinning behind him. 

When Will comes back, Mike has resumed the homework he abandoned earlier that night. 

“You didn’t finish?” he asks, taking off his jeans and settling on his bed. 

“No,” Mike shrugs.

“Just couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” Will teases, smiling. Mike looks at him. 

“Yeah, basically,”

Will pales. “_Oh_.”

Mike smiles as Will looks away. “Are you, um, are you gonna pick up El and Max?”

“Probably. I think I was their ride anyway.”

Will hums in response, and the room goes quiet. 

There’s a lot to talk about, but Mike doesn’t know where to start. It seems Will doesn’t either.

“Mike?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

Mike’s face flushes a little, but he grins. “I got that, yeah,”

“Shut up.”

(Will knows Mike’s joking, and Mike knows Will’s joking. They know. They always know.)

Will watches him work for a couple minutes, quietly and contently. Mike looks up at him a few times, and they either smile a little awkwardly or look away from the other. 

It’s a slow system for looking at each other, trying to find something on their face that they’ve never seen before, but it works. 

“Do you want me to stay up with you? I can come with you to pick up the girls or something,” Will says finally. Mike looks at him and laughs. 

“No way. You, sir, should probably be asleep right now. I’ll be fine. Turn out your light, okay?”

“Okay.” Will mumbles, and he does. He _ also _stands up and walks towards Mike’s bed, kneeling so they’re face to face. 

Mike _ finally _takes a hint, dropping his pencil on his textbook and cupping Will’s cheeks, pulling him close and pressing their lips together. 

This kiss is softer, less desperate, and a little less fearful. Will smiles into the kiss, which causes Mike to smile, and soon they’re giggling against each other’s mouths.

Will rests his forehead against Mike’s, breathing slowly. Mike closes his eyes, taking in every second of this moment. 

“Tomorrow morning, right?” Will whispers. Mike hums. 

“Tomorrow morning.” he whispers back. Will smiles, bites his lip, then presses a quick kiss to Mike’s forehead before returning to his own bed. 

“Goodnight, Mike,” he says softly, crawling under the covers and flipping onto his side. He’s still facing Mike, though. Mike thinks he knows why. 

“Goodnight, Will,” he replies. He takes one more look at Will’s face, at his soft little smile and flushed cheeks (hopefully from excitement and affection and maybe a little alcohol), and continues, “I love you.”

Will smiles. He doesn’t reply; he’s clearly too tired. But he doesn’t need to; Mike knows. 

_ I love you too. _

Here, in this moment, watching as Will flips over to shield his eyes from Mike’s lamp, Mike feels his heart stop for a second. 

He knows what it means, now, and he’s not so scared of it anymore. 

**i.**

Will doesn’t like school very much. 

He doesn’t like the kids very much; they’re mean and don’t talk to him and already he’s been called a couple names. 

He doesn’t like his teacher at _ all_; she’s scary and nasty, like the type of person his mom would smile at during work but then look at Will and make a scary face. He usually laughs at her. 

He hasn’t laughed in school yet. 

To be fair, he’s only been here for a couple hours. (As far as he knows. He’s not so great at time yet.)

According to his mean teacher, whose name he can’t be bothered to remember, recess is in ten minutes. Jonathan said Will would like recess, but that was when they both thought he would have friends. 

So far, all he has is a blank sheet of paper hes scribbling crayon on, and a boy who said his shirt was ugly.

No friends here. 

Will nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a loud bell that makes his ears ring. 

“Recess! Everyone grab yours coats!”

_ Recess_. Maybe it will be as fun as Jonathan said. Then again, maybe it won’t. Will can’t be sure; he just has to try it. 

Besides, maybe if he doesn’t like it he can just not do it. He’d like to finish his drawing by the end of the day; his mom would _ love _to see it. She always loves things he makes. 

He pulls on Jonathan’s old jacket that’s an entire size too big for him, and follows the other kids (who giggle at his coat when he walks by) into a line. 

Once they’re outside, Will looks around. Everyone has friends _ already _, and he’s alone. He doesn’t know what to do. So he starts walking. 

He walks past a group of girls giggling and pointing to a couple boys, a bunch of boys who snicker at him as he walks by, and a girl and a boy who look like they’re holding hands. 

He nears the play structure, and is happy to find it empty, save for a girl running through it. She’s gone in two seconds. Will smiles to himself, deciding to sit on the swings. 

Maybe he won’t have any friends this year. But that’s okay. He’ll sit on this swing every day, look at the trees, and maybe make up stories for the kids around him. 

The boy who’s considering climbing a tree, Will decides, has lost his pack up on the highest branch. It has his most important possession in the world (Will hasn’t decided what that’s going to be yet) and he _ has _ to get it, or else his entire family will be _ destroyed_, or—

The boy runs away to play with his friends more, and Will is reminded that his stories aren’t real and that boy has _ friends_, unlike him. 

“Hi,”

A voice snaps him back to reality. He looks up and sees a boy. Not the other other boys he’s seen, no, this one has a pretty face and makes his heart rate pick up. 

“Hi,” Will says back. He swallows his nerves and tightens his grip on the chains of the swing. 

“You’re alone,”

Will nods.

“I’m Michael—Mike,” The boy—_Mike_—says. 

Will thinks about his name for a second. _ Mike_. Or Michael, apparently; Will likes Mike better. He wants to say it out loud, see how it sounds coming out of his mouth, but he realizes that hearing a stranger say your name out loud after you’ve exchanged four words is a little weird. 

“…Will,” he says after a moment. 

Mike nods. Will doesn’t really know what he’s nodding _ at _.

“Do you—do you wanna be my friend?”

Will freezes, and for a second his head is just full of the words _ friend! _ and _ Mike! _over and over again. He holds back a smile. 

“Okay.”

And that’s that. 

Mike sits down in the swing next to him, and they start talking. First about their classes, but Will finds that gets boring very quickly, so he changes the subject. 

“Do you, um, do you like stories?”

Will thinks that’s a pretty dumb question. He wants to take it back, switch it for _ do you like video games? _ or _ do you like Star Trek _? but he’s asked it and now he waits for Mike’s answer. 

“Sometimes. Yeah. I don’t like real ones. Those are boring. I like when they—when they have dragons or spaceships or _ both _—I’ve never found a story like that, but I want one,”

_ Dragons and spaceships_, Will thinks. A smile grows on his face. 

“That sounds cool,” he looks over at Mike, “You should make it.”

Mike laughs and shakes his head. (He has a super pretty sounding laugh, Will decides almost immediately.) “I can't make stories,” he sighs, “I bet you can,”

Will looks away to hide his smile. “Not really,” 

“Oh.”

The boys sit in silence after this. Will is still thinking about Mike’s dragons and spaceships idea. It’s really cool. 

“We could make a story. You and me,” Mike says suddenly. Will looks at him again. 

“About dragons and spaceships?”

Mike hums, swinging his feet back and forth a few times. “Maybe. Or just about us.”

Will smiles. “I thought you didn’t like real stories,”

Mike shrugs. “I don’t know—maybe I’ll like this one.”

Will’s smile grows into a grin. He looks away to hide it, again—he doesn’t like it very much, so he’d rather Mike didn’t have to see it, if he can help it. 

Mike keeps talking about stories, and video games, and _ Star Trek_. Will half listens.

Once his smile has faded into a less obvious one, he looks at his new friend again. Mike happens to look over at the same time, and they share small smiles. 

Will feels his heart stop for a second as Mike starts talking again, and decides to ignore it for the time being. 

_Yeah_, he thinks, after he’s unknowingly fallen in love, _ I think I’ll like this story too. _


End file.
